Prisoner of Hope

I will never forget lying on the table at my doctor's office for my 32 weeks sonogram. Monday, October 11, 2010. The sonographer's face as she stared at the screen will forever be imprinted in my memory. How her hand rested across her mouth in a distinctly perplexed manner. There was a long pause, "Theresa, is everything okay or are you just deep in thought?" I asked. I hear my three other children whining in the corner of the room from the stroller. My mom had come through the door seconds before this exclaiming, "Sorry, I'm late!" She and I are both watching for Theresa's next move. "Well, it's both." She gazes directly at me, "Adrienne....I'm so sorry...."

Now my heart is pounding almost out of my chest. "Is it Baby A?" "Yes," she says. I'm ready for her to say, "He is sick" or "We have to deliver". But instead the blow was, "His heartbeat is gone."

"How is Baby B?" Now the kids are screaming at one another, my mother starts crying and I snap into what I like to call instinct mode. "Mom, please take my kids outside, away from here." As they are carted out with Abuela, I'm still lying on the table and Theresa is trying take pictures of my now deceased baby.

The un-attentive doctor who had mismanaged my whole pregnancy comes into the room. I look at him and say, "But....I felt...." "You don't know what you are feeling when you have twins," he cuts me off. I continued lying on the table for what felt like an eternity. I was sobbing and kept asking Theresa, "Are you sure? Are you POSITIVE, Theresa? Could this be a mistake???" Staring at the ceiling as they spoke my mind drifted. It took all my strength not to stick my fingers in my ears and run off the table telling them that they are liars and they are wrong.

I'm sure another time I'll write more about this day. This dark, dark day of my life. When the unexpected happened. I still cry when I think about it all.

I know of another dark day. A day of shattered hopes and dreams. When all the effort of a man's life ended abruptly and unfairly in a shameful death. How do you think the disciples felt watching their leader, their Savior hang naked on a tree receiving a punishment he did not deserve? They had to watch his body die and then be buried. The hopelessness they must have felt. Shattered dreams. Questioning everything, even the God, they'd always believed in. I felt like this that day.

But Scripture tells those who have lost and suffered:

"Turn you to the strong hold, you prisoners of hope: even to day do I declare that I will render double to you." Zechariah 9:12

It can be easy at these times to become a prisoner of your own making. Jailed by bitterness and fears, you can no longer see the good things that still lie ahead. You are too afraid to believe again. This had to have been how the disciples felt as they fled in fear and then as Peter denied and even cursed Jesus' name.

What no one could have known the day Jesus was crucified (except, of course, for Jesus), was that a Resurrection Day was coming. He would conquer death and the cross and that everyone from then on that believed in him would never have to be a prisoner of the grave. Even at that blackest hour, glory was coming.

I know that in my suffering, I cannot forget the glory of the resurrection. Scripture tells us that not only did Jesus raise from the dead, but that he is coming back again. And when he returns, there will be another resurrection day. Wow! I never knew that until my stay at the hospital. The dead in Christ shall rise. My son, Julian, shall rise first and then we will be caught up with them.

"For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord." 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17

I remember reading these verses and immediately being filled back up by the Spirit of God. There is hope! All is not lost! So I wait for this day as I live my life as gratefully as I can. Waiting for the return of Christ. Looking to the clouds. Knowing that hope lies ahead, I stay safe and sound in it's prison, never wanting to be freed.

Nothing wrong with my baby

I had to post this quickly because I feel like there are so many questions about what happened and I just want to clear the air. There was nothing wrong with my son, Julian. He wasn't disabled, he wasn't sick, he wouldn't have been a "problem" or a "burden" for me. TTTS is something that happens when babies share a placenta and the blood flows unevenly between the two of them. It makes one baby's heart pump twice as hard. They call this baby the "donor". If left untreated, the baby will become weak, anemic and can die. This is something that can happen any time, even during delivery. For me, it had set in at the end of my pregnancy and unfortunately, I was not being managed correctly by my doctors who should have put me as high risk because my sons shared a placenta. They were monochorionic diamniotic (one placenta, two sacs). If I had been given one simple doppler test during my sono, they would have identified it and taken the proper measures the treat us. My doctors were negligent and then tried to cover it up after my baby passed away.

Julian was the exact replica of Gianluca. When he was born, he had the same feet, same black hair, same long fingers, nose and mouth. I held him in my arms for two hours, crying, rocking him and telling him how much I will always love him. I'm so glad that the Lord chose me to be his mommy. I'm so happy that he was in my belly, growing and knowing that I loved him. I did my very, very best to try and have a healthy pregnancy. Even when the doctors shot down my concerns, I didn't stop searching for answers. Unfortunately, I was searching in the dark and now, hindsight is truly 20/20. But I never regret my pregnancy and I have the same amount of love for him that I did while he was alive kicking and hiccuping inside of me. My son is not a "was", he is an "is"; and he is in the presence of the Lord and one day we will be reunited. Thanks for reading <3

Everything happens for a reason....

I have never rejected that phrase more than I do now. Many have said it to me in regard to Julian passing away. Well-meaning friends and family trying to soothe my wounds with lemon juice.

"If one of your three children died today, would you stand at their grave and say that everything happens for a reason?" This was one response I had given. I wasn't at all angry, but I was trying to shed some light on a common phrase that can pack some pretty offensive innuendos. As time has gone by, though, I find I am able to deal with hurtful comments with so much more grace than a few months ago.

Back to the phrase, I had a lot of time to think about why things happen when I spent those four weeks in the hospital prior to giving birth. I felt that if I could somehow explain why my baby had passed away, it would ease my pain. Yet, I found no answer was sufficient. If everything happens for a reason...what was that reason and is it benevolent or punishment?

I started torturing myself. Maybe it was something I said. Something I did? Sins of the past? Was I not grateful enough? Did I choose the wrong doctor? Would five children have been too much? Was I just incapable of handling them so one had to go? Perhaps I wasn't the mother and Christian I thought I was... On and on. What was this REASON everyone spoke of and how could it possible be something GOOD? How in the world is a dead baby better than a living one??

I prayed and read Scripture, going to God himself, to find the truth. And there it was,

That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. Matthew 5:45

So, things don't necessarily happen for a reason, but they do happen! Life just happens. That is it. But now, here is the promise of God for His children,

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Even though life has happened, the Lord promised that He will work it together for my good. I'm so happy that I don't serve a God who loves me based on my actions, but on the actions of His Son. And if there is going to be any reason at all, let it all be for His glory. Anything less is unacceptable.

Through His Word I have realized that there isn't always a "reason", but that I can trust God when life happens.

This little light of mine...

I've wrestled a lot about starting a blog. Although, the desire has been there from the beginning to put down in letter what I speak out daily. But, I'm typically not one to publicize my inner most thoughts and let my feelings be on display. Even my Facebook page is guarded with Scripture and inspirational sayings. I just don't like to feel that vulnerable.

So, after a very choppy and oversimplified account of the story of my twins, I finally published my first post last night. I felt a huge sense of accomplishment- and then regret. Letting it all go....public. What was I thinking? But what is the purpose of this journey if it doesn't change me? There will always be naysayers and gossips; but somewhere there is someone struggling with loss, with shattered dreams, with hopes deferred. I truly know the pain of a broken heart and yet, a God who's grace is greater than the pain. I knew it only in words that I had read before the loss of Julian. Now I know the love of God in an intimate way that is my strength, my ability and my renewed hope.

I am praying with each new posting. Asking the Lord to bring His comfort and light to all my readers. Asking that He would be glorified in the life and death of Julian. I am going to trust Him with my own life and whatever He wants to use. Hide it under a bushel? No.

Hope deferred maketh the heart sick, but a fulfilled longing is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

Julian (Baby A) and Gianluca (Baby B)

On October 11, 2010, I was 32 weeks pregnant with identical twin boys and headed into the doctor's office for a routine sono. While on the table, the sonographer told me that Baby A had died. From there, I was transferred over to a high risk practice to get a more detailed sonogram. The high risk doctor asked me if my babies had shared a placenta or if they had individual placentas. I had no idea and unfortunately, neither did my previous doctor's office. No one had bothered to check.

Up until this point of my pregnancy, I was always told that the babies were very healthy and on the bigger side. Their sizes always seemed to be within an ounce of each other. During dopplers, I knew that baby A had a slightly slower heart beat. I had also called the office many times to tell them that Baby B had hiccups all the time, but not Baby A. They would dismiss all of my complaining. The office visit before this sonogram, I had even told one of the doctors that I lost six pounds, my milk dried up and I had gotten very swollen. Still, my complaints were ignored.

I had also been seeing a cardiologist for severe tachycardia and had become pretty anemic to the point that a hematologist was going to put me on IV iron infusions the week before I found out that Baby A had died. Still, my OB told me this was all "normal". Through much research, I have been able to put the pieces together about what happened. Most likely my boys suffered from Twin To Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS). One simple test from my doctor's office would have diagnosed them and it is very likely I would have delivered two live babies, instead of one.

While we were still reeling from the news of the loss of one of our boys, the high risk doctor then told us that it seemed I was carrying monochorionic diamniotic twins and now there was up to a 40% chance that my other baby would have severe brain damage and/or heart and kidney damage, a 90% chance that he would die too and a 75% chance that I would go into labor during the next two weeks. I was put into the hospital until I could safely deliver my other twin boy. I had to leave at home my other three children who were ages 6, 3 and 15 months. Every day I had myriad testing done to try and save the life of my other twin.

To the glory of God, I did not show signs of labor until FOUR weeks later, I survived my C-section on November 4, 2010, and Baby B was born PERFECTLY HEALTHY! I am so grateful to be safely home with my children and am completely in love with my new little boy. Still, I have days where I have to lock myself in the bathroom so that the other kids don't see me crying. Sometimes I get anxiety attacks when I'm reminded of things that happened during my pregnancy. I struggled with a lot of guilt that maybe if I would have gotten a second opinion or pushed harder, I would have been able to save my child.

This is when I rely on the word of God stored up in my heart. I have learned so much about the love and grace of God through this journey. I know that we are meant to be vessels of His glory and I hope to share about the loving kindness of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ through this blog. Thanks for reading. <3